Black Light

All the words needed was in that drunken letter, written in December

He is moving on now, no more shadows to chase down stained sidewalks

-“ We always saw you as a drifter…seeking!” the old lady down on the corner once whispered

Deep ravines and wind beaten cliffs, a place where man has yet been and no man will ever look

High amongst the thin air of the giants where the sun dries the morning mist

I have you to care about, the few tangled strings that holds us connected has shown sign of fatigue lately

The signs are in every nook and cranny, yet we keep on dreaming of what we don’t have

I’m the black jester, the joke of all things that we hold dear and treasure like a hand held when in pain

Nothing radiated a more vivid-less darkness, matched with only the last leap of the true dreamer

Nomad Vagabond finding a home at last

Ω